When In Rome
by IWishIWasAMermaid
Summary: ...Do As The Romans Do. Seventeen year olds Lilly, Miley and Oliver are off to Rome to experience... well, different experiences.
1. Stiamo Andando A Roma!

**When In Rome**

_**Stiamo andando a Roma!**_

_We're going to Rome!_

"How do you feel about homeless people?" Miley slid into the seat opposite Oliver, and put her smoothie down on the white plastic table.

Oliver glanced at her. "Well, I wouldn't want to be one," he said, making me laugh.

"Agreeing with Ollie here. I would not want to be a homeless person. Give me a home and a place to live any day of the week," I said.

Miley rolled her eyes. "I mean homeless people in Italy."

"You're asking me if I'd like to be a homeless person in Italy?" Oliver frowned, looking at my other best friend like she'd sprouted an extra head.

"I would definitely not want to be homeless and be in Italy," I said. "Not that there is anything wrong with Italy, I just don't speak Italian - unlike Ollie here - and there's a possibility that not understanding anything may decrease your chances of getting a house, or at the very least a room."

Oliver snorted with laugher, and I deliberately kept my gaze focussed on Miley.

"Okay, enough with the lame stuff." Miley rolled her eyes again, looking at us impatiently. Her eyes darted from side to side, presumably ensuring that the coast was clear, before leaning closer. "Hannah Montana is doing a benefit concert for the homeless in Rome this summer, and Dad decided to make a family vacation out of it. It's Jackson's first summer out of college so he's tagging along because it's free. But that isn't important. What is important, is that Dad has booked a holiday home that has beds for seven people. Which, for Oliver's benefit, is four more people than we actually have."

Oliver rolled his eyes at the deliberate mention. I guess he's used to it. Miley's been saying stuff like that to him for years, but he knows she doesn't really mean it. At least... I think she doesn't really mean it.

"Okay, are you saying what I think you're saying?" I asked, turning away from Oliver, and looking at Miley.

She smiled. "Depends what you think I'm saying."

"I think you're saying that me and Oliver are invited to Rome. On vacation. With your family. And I'd better be right, because I'm going to feel like an idiot if I'm wrong," I said.

"Good job you're not wrong then, isn't it?" Miley grinned. "My dad is working on persuading your parents now. You think that they'll agree to it? Please say they will."

I shrugged. "I guess so. I mean we're seventeen now. How are they going to stop us. Plus, we're totally responsible, right?"

"Of course," Miley replied. "What about you Oliver?"

Oliver looked from me to Miley, before shrugging too. "Sure. If Lilly's parents say yes, then mine won't say no. To be honest, they'll probably be glad to get shot of me for a while."

"And in order to get shot of you, they'll willingly force you upon somebody else?" I laughed, biting my straw. Bad habit of mine.

"Force me?" Oliver raised his eyebrows at me, and pretended to look threatening. I stared right back, my brain instructing my mouth that if it laughed, it'd do something to it. I don't know what.

"Okay you guys," Miley rolled her eyes, and drained the last of her plastic cup. Then she stood up. "If you can stop staring at each other for like, a second, then we can go and find out how my dad is getting on. But that's only if you two can tear your eyes away from each other for one minute!"

I looked at her, knowing what she was implying and also knowing that if she went a step further, she probably wouldn't be able to go to Rome. Not in perfect health anyway. Although I wouldn't be able to hurt her, so she'd probably just be going without me.

Miley didn't pick up on the 'shut up' signals that I was mentally sending to her. I guess she doesn't have Jedi mind powers. "So are we going?"

"Yeah," I nodded, pushing my smoothie away from me and standing up. "Come on Ollie."

"But I'm not finished," Oliver protested, gesturing at his drink.

I rolled my eyes, and turned to him. "If you come now, I promise that in Rome I'll buy you five Italian ice creams. Is that persuasive enough?"

"Works for me," Oliver said, getting up. I laughed, and grabbed his hand, pulling him along the beach after Miley as we made our way to my house.

---

"Please?" I begged once more, as I sat behind the breakfast counter in the kitchen. Mom was washing up after dinner.

Her initial reaction to Mr. Stewart's vacation proposal was no. No, no, no. I could not go to a foreign country that was so far away, because I was too young. Plus Mr. Stewart was never going to be able to keep track of all of us, especially while Miley was doing concert run-throughs and appearances. No.

"Mom, why can't I go really? Because you can say that 'too young' rubbish all you want, but we both know that that's not why you're denying me this," I said.

She turned around and looked at me, her mouth open as though she were about to say something, before turning back to the dishes.

"What? What is it?" I asked, suddenly curious. And slightly angry. I mean, she was being totally unreasonable. Totally unreasonable. Why couldn't I go to Rome? We had adult supervision, and we practically were adults now anyway...

Mom put down the dish she was washing, and turned around fully. "Lilly, I just don't think it's a good idea."

Which basically means: "I have no other excuse, so live with it".

"Mom, jumping off a cliff isn't a good idea. Asking Mike to think about something, isn't a good idea. Taking a fortnight's vacation in Rome, one of the most beautiful and educational cities in the world is a very good idea, so can you please tell me why you don't want me to go?" I said, staring at my mother.

"Lilly... you're seventeen. Three seventeen year olds... aren't going to be easy to keep track of. And when one of the trio is a boy..."

Excuses, excuses.

"Is it because you're afraid?" I asked, reading the anxious expression on her face. "Afraid of something bad happening... or afraid that I'll come back a different person? Mom, do you think that in the space of two weeks, I'll grow up to somebody unrecognisable?"

She shook her head. "I just don't want..."

"Mom, I'll be fine. And think of it this way: in two weeks I'll come back, and be so glad to see you. I can tell already that I'll miss you. But I can't miss you if you don't let me go anywhere, can I?" I said, interrupting her but not really caring.

My dad, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen laughed. "She's not giving this one up Janie. And I have to admit, she makes sense. Why don't we give it a try? Lilly knows what she can and can't do. Robbie Ray said that he'd be perfectly happy with having them. Plus, her friends are good kids. Miley has a level head, and Oliver... well, he's a good kid."

"Please, mom," I said, looking over at my dad gratefully. One parent down, the other cracking. Come on... come on...

"I... I don't know," Mom resigned, sighing heavily.

I stood up and walked over to her. "Mom, I love you, okay, and I'm totally sure that this hesitation is your way of showing that you care. I really want to go to Rome, mom. Really. Please. Whatever doubts are in your mind, I assure you that I'll come back from Italy as me. The same person. I don't want to be anyone else anyway."

My mother looked from me, to my dad before sighing and raising her hands. "I guess... I guess you can go to Rome."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I gushed, hugging my mom swiftly, before running over and hugging my dad. "You guys rock. Thank you. Stay off the phone, I'm ringing Oliver and then Miley."

My dad laughed, as I grabbed the phone and ran out of the room with it. How awesome was this?

Pushing in Oliver's phone number, I ran up the stairs and flung open my bedroom door. He answered almost straight away.

"Lilly?"

I smiled. "Yeah. The parents caved. I am officially allowed to go to Rome with you and Miley!"

"That's awesome! It wouldn't have been the same without you Lills," Oliver said, and I could tell that he was pleased. I've been friends with him too long.

"You say that like you would have gone if I'd been banned from going," I joked, pretending to sound disgruntled at the very idea.

"Of course I wouldn't," Oliver replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Then you'd be stupid. Turning down a practically free trip to Rome, because I couldn't go? What is wrong with you, Oken?"

Oliver laughed. "What about me?"

"What about you?" I queried, sitting down on my bed after making sure that the door was firmly closed. "You're seventeen, weird and in dire need of a haircut. That the info you were seeking?"

"No. I meant; if I couldn't go to Rome, would you still go?" Oliver asked, trying to force his voice into a joking tone. I wasn't fooled.

"Of course not. What entertainment would I have when Miley was off being Hannah? Jackson? Please. Give me Oliver Oscar Oken any day," I smiled, hoping that it was the answer he was searching for. And even if it wasn't, it was the truth.

Oliver hesitated for a second before replying. "Awesome. Have you told Miley the news yet?"

"Nope. I decided to bless you with the information before her. Aren't you the luckiest guy in the world?"

"Yeah, I am," Oliver said, sounding way out of it. If he had been here, I would have snapped my fingers in front of his face, but the only thing I could do over the phone, was clear my throat. Luckily, it worked. "I mean... yeah, I guess I am."

I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing of his extra weirdness. "Well anyway, I'd better go and ring Miley. Just don't tell her I called you first. She might get jealous."

"It'll be our secret," Oliver said, sounding normal again.

I laughed. "And keep it that way. Talk to you tomorrow Ollie."

"Bye," he said, before hanging up.

After staring at the phone for a minute or two (why, I have no idea. I spaced out for a bit, I guess) I dialled Miley's phone number, and waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" Robbie Ray answered.

"Hey Mr. S," I said, ignoring his earlier protests to call him Robbie Ray. He was Mr. S, and always would be. "Guess who got their loving parents to agree to this vacation you're very kindly taking us on?"

Mr. Stewart laughed. "I'm guessing her name begins with 'l' and ends with 'y'. Tell me if I'm close."

"You are so close, you're practically on fire!" I grinned. "Miley there? Thought I'd break the good news to her."

"I'll put her on now," Mr. Stewart said. "Tell your parents that I'll drop by tomorrow, just to talk things over."

"Will do."

Miley came on the line only seconds later. "They said yes?"

"After a lot of begging and reassuring, and some help from my father, she said yes!" I cheered, throwing myself back onto the pillow. "It took some time, but it'll be worth it."

"So worth it. Can you believe this, Lilly? We're going to Rome!"

**So this is the product when you put me in a villa for two weeks with nothing to do. I got bored, started writing and this was the outcome. It shouldn't take long to write (I'm only planning about 14 chapters) but I'm hoping it'll be good.**

**Anyway, it's good to be back, and I'll go and read the stories that I've missed in the last fortnight or so. **


	2. Volando Sopra Il Mondo

**When In Rome**

Volando sopra il mondo

_Flying over the world_

"So, are you packed yet?" Miley asked, as we engaged in our nightly phone conversation.

I glanced over at the pile of clothes that sat, waiting to be put into my suitcase. "Just about. Well, I have all of the clothes out, but they aren't in a case yet. Does that count?"

"I think so," Miley laughed. "I can't wait. This time tomorrow, we're going to be either on a plane to Rome, or actually there. I can't be bothered to work it out now. It involves a lot of time difference and adding and subtracting."

"It does. My mom has made me promise that I'll call her, but I know that I'll end up ringing her at an ungodly time. Not that it should matter. If she wants to hear from me, she'll have to live with the late night or early morning calls," I said, sitting down on my bed.

"I love your considerate-ness," Miley said. "Dad's with us, so I don't have to worry about that."

Someone knocked at my door; I heard the doorbell echo through the house. Deciding to let someone else get it - it was probably one of mom's friend's anyway - I lay back on the mattress and lifted my hand to my lips, nibbling on my thumbnail slightly. Bad habit of mine. I've tried not to do it a thousand times, but always find myself gnawing on the nail when I'm not thinking about it.

"Are you biting your nails?" Miley snapped suddenly. "I've told you a thousand times not to bite your nails, yet you still seem to be doing it. Italian boys don't like girls who bite their nails, Lilly."

I raised my eyebrows, but took my fingernail out of my mouth. "How would you know, Miley?"

"Because I do. Just don't do it, okay? Your nails look terrible when you've been biting them," she said. "Aren't you at all bothered about what the cute Italian boys will think of you?"

"Not really," I shook my head, hearing something on the landing. Eh, somebody probably just climbed up the stairs. If it's mom coming to tell me how to exit the house in the case of a fire, I'll scream. I may even think about not returning from Rome. Moving there permanently. Then I'll definitely be a homeless person in Italy.

"But Lilly! They're so much cuter than the boys here in Malibu! I mean, there isn't much competition, but hey," Miley said, not thinking about the five boys that she'd admired today alone.

I laughed slightly, knowing that this wasn't true. She always found a hot guy anywhere she went, and usually ended up talking to him, while me and Oliver stood in the background, practically forgotten. A knock at the door got my attention, and I rolled my eyes. Seriously, would being a homeless person in Italy be worse than listening to mom's lecturing? I got up and walked over to the door. "I dunno... there are some pretty cute guys here in Malibu too."

"Like who?" Miley asked, obviously intrigued now.

I opened the door, ready to tell my mother that I knew how to say 'hospital' in Italian, and that I honestly doubted that I'd need to know it anyway, but found myself surprised. In a good way, obviously. "Oliver!"

"Oliver?!" Miley shrieked, and I blushed slightly, realising exactly what I'd said while I'd been distracted. I'd forgotten that I had the phone at my ear... and forgotten what Miley had just asked me.

"No! I mean...! He's at my door. He knocked on my bedroom door, and I was saying hi... and I didn't mean that..." I rambled, waving my free hand around wildly. "You want to talk to him?"

"No thanks," Miley said, not sounding like she completely believed me. "I spoke to him before. Hey, if you have a visitor, then I'll call you back later. I'd probably be better off packing my stuff in my suitcase to be honest. I have two weeks to speak to you!"

I laughed, still slightly embarrassed about what had just gone down. "Yeah, two weeks. Awesome. I'll speak to you later? Or in the morning?"

"I dunno. I'll definitely speak to you in the morning. But if I have time, then I'll call later, okay? I bet I'll be put to work. And you have Oliver," she said, sounding slightly weird when she said the last sentence.

"Yeah," I said, wrinkling my nose. "Yeah, I guess. Talk to you later?"

Miley said goodbye and hung up, and I turned back to my door. Seeing that Oliver was still standing as he had been about five minutes ago, I quickly motioned for him to come in. "Sorry, Miley. You could have just come in, you know. Instead of standing there, looking gormless."

"Gormless?" Oliver raised his eyebrows, walking into the room.

"Means 'like a lemon'," I said, following him into the room and closing the door. It was Oliver. Plus, with the door closed, my mom might get the message. That I don't need the useless lectures that she's got a ton of.

Oliver sat down on my bed, and picked up the book that I'd left on my bedside table. "Dracula?" What can I say? It's a classic, so if you say that you've read it, teachers love you. Plus it has blood-sucking vampires in it. Win-win. "How do you read this?"

I rolled my eyes, taking the book off him and opening it up at a random page. "Okay. Well, these random symbols here - you see them? - they're called words. And if you have the ability to read, then you can understand them. It's a difficult concept to grasp, but I'm sure you'll manage it, Ollie."

"Shut up," Oliver said, grabbing the book back and putting it on the dressing table once again. I noted the fake look of annoyance on his face, and smiled.

"I hit a sore spot," I said, dropping down onto the bed opposite him. "I think."

Oliver stretched out, and kicked me gently. "Take that, Lillian."

I laughed and kicked him back. "Take that back, Oliver. Ugh, that is so not fair. You don't even have a name that I can elongate. Olllivvverrr."

"That's the best you could do?" Oliver raised his eyebrows.

"You try to make it longer!" I challenged. "It's a very hard name to make long."

Oliver just rolled his eyes and looked around the room. "You haven't packed yet? I finished, and was bored. So I decided to bless you with my presence."

"Aren't I lucky?" I said, sarcastically. "And you only came here because you were bored? That's hardly nice, is it?"

"It's very nice. So nice. You're so lucky," Oliver said. "You're going to Rome tomorrow. With your best friends in the entire world - me being one of them - and you're going to have an amazing time."

I smiled at him. "You're so right. It's going to be so awesome. You looking forward to being in Italy with me - the single greatest person in the world?"

"More than you'll ever know," Oliver replied, and smiled at me.

---

"Please fasten your seatbelts, we're preparing for arrival at Rome airport. The local time is 10:46am. The temperature is 27 degrees celsius. Thank you for travelling with United Airlines, we hope you enjoy your stay," the pilot announced over the intercom.

I breathed a half sigh of relief. Well, the flight was almost over. I would soon be on the ground. It had been two long - seriously, fourteen hours? - and I'd hated every second of it. Miley and Jackson had fought almost the whole way, and I'd had to move to sit next to Oliver because I couldn't stand the arguing. The food was terrible, and the movies were rubbish. Plus we came into turbulence halfway there, and were lurching up and down for ages. But now we had to land, and I wasn't looking forward to landing.

"Lilly, you okay?" Oliver asked, the only one to notice my visible discomfort at the fact that we were about to enter the most dangerous part of flying. Okay, so I have no idea whether it's the most dangerous part of flying, but I can't imagine it'll be too safe.

I nodded wordlessly, and bit my lip. Hard. I didn't like this...

"We have to get down somehow, Lilly," Oliver said reassuringly.

"I know... but couldn't they like, drop an anchor and rope ladder and let us all climb down it or something?" I said, aware of how stupid that sounded. It was just as well that Miley was too engrossed in fighting with Jackson, otherwise she'd have definitely have said something.

Oliver, surprisingly, didn't mention how stupid the idea was. I was fully expecting something sarcastic, but it never came. "I wouldn't want to climb down. Thirty-thousand feet in the air? I'm not scared of heights, but I'd be scared of that."

"I know..." I sighed, looking at him. "Whatever. But I just don't want to land. We could like... blow up or something."

This time he couldn't hold the sarcasm in. "Blow up? What, precisely, do you think is going to blow up?"

"I mean crash or whatever," I shrugged. "Shut up."

Oliver laughed. "Lilly, it'll be fine. It'll all be fine."

I obviously didn't look too sure, because the next thing I know, he's reaching out and taking my hand, squeezing it slightly. It feels... nice. Why does it feel like this? It's strange... I mean, he's my best friend. Holding hands with your best friend isn't supposed to feel like this. You're not supposed to hold hands with your best friend at all. It just doesn't happen.

"I promise," he said, and he looked sincere. His brown eyes were looking at me both sympathetically and caringly, and I knew that he was right. What was I worrying about? The flight was almost over. It was nearly done. And the pilot landed thousands of planes a year. He wouldn't crash it; not if he could help it anyway.

"Okay," I nodded, feeling strangely out of breath.

Suddenly the plane touched down, bumping slightly on the ground. It rolled into the plane parking space or whatever, and came to a halt. Neither me or Oliver moved. People around us began to get up and heave their belongings from the luggage racks. Neither me or Oliver moved. Just kept looking at each other.

"It wasn't that bad, was it Lilly?" Miley's head popped up over the seats, and I yanked my hand from Oliver's grip so fast, it was like he'd burnt me. Then I stood up quickly, avoiding Oliver's eye.

"It was okay. I mean... I didn't like it, but I survived," I said, pulling my bag down from the compartment above. Miley did the same, and then followed me down the aisle and off the plane.

The heat hit me fast. It was warmer than we'd left it in Malibu, and looked very different. I turned to Miley, who was standing behind me, and motioned out at the view. "We're not in Malibu anymore."

"Definitely not," she agreed, and slipped past me to walk down the stairs.

I caught a glimpse of Oliver, who was looking at me, and smiled at him. He smiled back. Then I began to descend down the stairs, thinking furiously. What was that? Was there something there that I'd missed every time I'd been with Oliver before? Was it a one-off? I mean, he was being so nice. Was it a new thing, or had it been buried inside of me for ages? But most of all, what the hell was it? What was it? Why did I suddenly get breathless and feel butterflies?

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I looked back up at where Oliver was jumping down them. As I watched him, I pushed all thoughts from my brain. It was a one-off. And it won't happen again. Whatever it was.

**I'M SO SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! My computer charger broke, and so I haven't been able to get on and access any documents for a week or so. And then this chapter took a while to write. But I promise, I shall update more regularly, and I shall review all stories I have been reading, and I shall PM a few people, and I shall most definitely be a better writer. Review, please! And I'll update faster!**


	3. Stanze Ed Acqua

**When In Rome**

_**Stanze ed acqua**_

_Rooms and Water_

After an hour in the car, I was about ready to scream. We'd (being me and Oliver) endured 'The Top 10 Country Songs' at least five times. We'd heard Jackson ask to drive the car ten times, and be refused the same amount of times. Plus, I'd managed to accidentally brush hands with Oliver three times, and each touch sent a weird tingly feeling go up my spine, which didn't make me feel all that much better. So, when we finally turned a corner into a drive in front of a huge house, it's safe to say that me and Oliver were very relieved. Very.

"Alright kids," Mr. S announced as he shut off the engine, and opened the door to his side. "We're here."

As if we hadn't already guessed that.

Jackson pushed open his door, and practically ran up to the front door of the house. "The key's under the welcome mat, right dad?"

Miley got out of the car, leaving the door open so that I could climb out. "It's totally amazing. I think I want to stay here forever."

"You've only seen the outside," I said, climbing over the seat and stepping onto the driveway. "How can you know - oh. Yeah. If staying here forever was an option, I'd definitely do it."

Jackson and Mr. Stewart had found the key, and Jackson was shoving it into the lock excitedly. "I'm getting the best room!" he yelled as the key clicked, and the door swung open.

"No you're not!" Miley screamed, running after him into the house. Their thuds as they ran up the stairs could be heard from out here.

Laughing slightly, I took another look at the house. It was seriously amazing. Two storeys. I could see the veranda area that lined the house from here, and the two hammocks that swung there. There was a pool down a few steps, and it was massive. About five sun-loungers were scattered around the pool area, and I knew that I'd be spending a lot of time lying on one of them. I hadn't even seen the inside yet, but I knew that I loved this house.

"It's awesome, isn't it?" Oliver said, standing next to me. I guess he didn't want to get too involved with the race to the rooms either.

"Uh-huh." I nodded. "It's totally amazing. I so want to live here. It's practically in the middle of nowhere anyway, so I wouldn't have to learn much Italian, right? There's nobody to have conversations with!"

Oliver laughed. "I'm not sure that's the point, Lil. How would you get your groceries and stuff?"

Okay, so he has a point there. Not that I'm going to tell him that. "Um... well there has to be someone who speaks English in a supermarket. Plus, they didn't invent Italian phrasebooks for nothing, did they?"

Oliver shook his head at me, laughing. "Let's go inside. Stop Miley and Jackson from killing each other."

"That would be a good idea. Having two dead bodies on our hands would not make a good start to the vacation," I agreed, and we both ran inside.

The inside of the house was just as beautiful, with mis-matched ornaments and cushions around the room. It was weird, but in a cool sort of way. If that makes any sense at all. But there would be time to look around later. I ran up the stairs after Oliver, the sounds of Miley and Jackson yelling at each other audible from down here.

Mr. Stewart met us at the top of the stairs. "I trust you guys, I do. But separate rooms please. As much as I doubt you guys would do... anything you shouldn't, I don't want to have to explain it to your parents... should you... do things." He didn't wait for a response, just walked down the stairs, presumably to look around a bit more.

"Well, that was slightly awkward," I said, choosing to go into the room that didn't have loud shouting coming from it.

"Slightly? What... things did he think we would possibly do?" Oliver asked, collapsing on the bed in front of us.

I shook my head, not really wanting to think about it. "Don't even go there Ollie. Just don't. What time is it back in Malibu?"

Oliver sat up, and looked at the watch that he'd taken to wearing. I got him it for his fifteenth birthday, because he was always late. It didn't help much. He just forgot to look at it. "Well, we left Malibu at nine in the morning. We've been away for sixteen hours, so it's about one in the morning there now. Because it's ten o'clock here."

"You think my mom would mind if I woke her up now? I probably should've rung her when we landed, right? I should wait until later right? Actually, I'll text her. That makes sense," I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Oliver shrugged. "Sure. Whatever."

I looked at him, as I folded my legs up underneath me. "Yeah, I'll text her in a minute. So... do you want this room? I don't mind where I sleep, as long as I sleep somewhere."

"Aren't you tired?" Oliver asked, looking up at me. I can see that he's tired; he just looks it. But there's something else there. Excitement, I think. Well, who wouldn't be excited?

I shook my head. "Nope. I think it was that pool. I just want to go swimming."

"Then let's go!" Miley cried, bounding into the room. Her argument with Jackson was obviously over, and I wondered which room they'd each settled on. "I'm sleeping in the room opposite here. Jackson is sleeping in the one beside it. Do you guys want these two rooms? There's an adjoining door here." She walked over to another door in the opposite wall, and opened it, revealing another room.

I shrugged. "Sure, I'll take that one. Works for me."

"But yeah. Swimming, you said? I'd love to go swimming! You coming Oliver?" Miley asked, jumping up and down on the spot.

Oliver nodded slightly. "Okay. I'll get my stuff outta my bag."

Miley hopped through to her room, and I walked into mine, closing the door behind me. Then, sitting on my bed, I opened up the suitcase that someone had brought in (I'm presuming it was Miley, because she seemed to know where we were all sleeping) and pulled out my blue tankini. Sure, it was technically one in the morning. But it was ten in the morning here. And when in Rome, do as the Romans do, right?

---

"Lilly! The water is so cold!" Miley dipped a toe in the water, as I put some sun cream on my shoulders. Surprisingly, we'd been ready before Jackson and Oliver, and so had made our way down to the pool already.

"It's just the fact that you aren't used to it," I stated, walking over to the steps and putting my own foot in. "And it is not. It's quite warm actually."

Miley turned to me, her hands on her hips. "It's flippin' cold, Lilly. And I'm not going to be able to get in there. Until it warms up."

I laughed and walked over to the deep end of the pool, picking out an odd-shaped leaf that had fallen in. "Well, we'll just have to fix that then, won't we?"

"You wouldn't!" Miley looked at me, open-mouthed. "Hey guys!"

I turned around, to see Jackson walking down the steps to the pool. Oliver was behind him, shielded by Jackson. Why wouldn't Jackson just move out of the way?

Wait. What? Did I seriously just think that? That I actually wanted to see Oliver... in a semi-naked form? Okay, no. I didn't.

Well, I thought I didn't. Until Jackson moved out of the way.

It turns out that Oliver really doesn't need the blow-up muscles that he used to wear at school sometimes. Not anymore anyway.

Because I was too busy staring at Oliver, I didn't notice Jackson pick up the hose. Nor did I notice him turn it on, full blast, and point it directly at me. In fact, the first that I actually knew of it, was when a jet of water hit me in the stomach, and made me fall over the side of the pool.

The next thing I knew, strong arms were wrapped around me, and lifting me to the surface of the water. I reached the top gratefully, gasping for breath. Because it had been slightly unexpected (understatement) I hadn't had time to take in much air. And so had basically almost drowned. Fun.

"You okay?" Oliver asked, wiping his hair from his eyes and looking at me with concern. Miley was standing at the edge of the water, also staring at me worriedly - but also with a hint of suspicion on her face. I ignored it.

"Yes. Yeah, I'm fine. I was just... not paying attention. You didn't have to jump in and save me," I said, pulling away from Oliver, and clutching at the side.

"I'm really sorry Lilly," Jackson said, looking guilty.

I smiled at him, trying to ignore the embarrassment that was bubbling up inside of me. "It's no problem. I should have been paying attention. But I'm fine. Not a scratch on me, so we can just forget it now."

"Good." Jackson looked relieved.

"Well, I managed to test my lifesaving skills." Oliver grinned at me. "Think I could put that on my resume - saved my best friends life."

I laughed, forcing most of it. "Yeah. If you're planning on being a lifeguard."

Oliver shrugged. "There's worse jobs I could do."

Pulling myself out of the water, I nodded, and walked over to one of the sun loungers. Yeah, I'd go back in the water later. I'd had pretty much enough of it right now.

"You sure you're okay Lilly?" Miley had walked over to me, and was looking at me strangely.

I knew what she was getting at. I'd reiterated a thousand times that I was okay after falling into the water. But she looked suspicious; I saw her. But it's best to just be vague, right? "Yes. I'm fine. I just slipped, is all."

"I wasn't talking about that," she stated bluntly. She wasn't even trying to approach the subject carefully then.

Avoiding her eye, I painted a look of innocence on my face, but inside my brain was screaming: neither did I. Neither did I.

**So homework is terrible. And I hardly have any time to write anymore, but I'll keep trying. You might get an update once a week, possibly more if I get less homework. Keep reviewing though; they make me smile!**


	4. Non Cadere Fuori Dell'amaca

**When In Rome**

_**Non cadere fuori dell'amaca**_

_Don't Fall Out of the Hammock!_

Hammocks are surprisingly comfortable. Really. I could almost fall asleep (and believe me, I've been up for twenty-four hours straight, so I'm tempted), lying here with the sun out and the peace and quiet, swaying in this hammock. And that might be the point of the hammock, but I don't really care.

In fact, lying here, the whole events of today seemed trivial. Sure, I'd been pushed into a swimming pool because I wasn't paying enough attention to those around me, and I'd had to be saved by my best friend. And while we're on the subject of my best friend, I'd been struck by the notion that he looked _hot_ in nothing but swimming trunks. But none of that was really that bad, was it?

Ugh, who am I kidding? Of course it's bad. It's terrible. It's horrendous. If I wasn't in a hammock and afraid of falling out of it I have kicked myself, but if I fell out of it, I'd feel like even more of an idiot. If that's even possible.

It isn't the fact that Oliver is hot. It's the fact that I, Lillian Truscott, find him hot. We're best friends, and best friends don't think that about each other. Does he think that about me? No. Because it's an unwritten rule in the Best Friend Rulebook, that best friends don't find each other attractive. They just shouldn't. Yet I'm breaking that rule.

Wanting to drown out my thoughts, I picked up my iPod, and stuck both of the headphones in my ear. I scrolled through the list of artists, and picked one of my personal favourites. 'Hey There Delilah' echoed through my head, and I closed my eyes, letting it wash over me. Forgetting all about it was the best option. Just forgetting about it all.

"Hey, Lilly?" A voice that didn't belong in the chorus of the song made me jump slightly, and I turned my head to see Oliver standing at the doorway. I smiled at him, and reached up my headphone to listen to what he was saying. Or about to say. Whatever. He really was hot though.

STOP IT. STOP IT NOW.

"Hey Ollie," I said, trying to appear nonchalant. Whether it worked or not, I don't know, but Oliver didn't say anything, so I suppose it was all good.

He walked over to me, and sat on one of the chairs beside the hammock. "Are you okay?" The way he was looking at me made me feel like I shouldn't be. Okay that is.

Okay? Yeah, I'm fine. I just fell into a swimming pool and made myself look like a freak, am in a country where I can't speak a word of the language, and I'm apparently falling for my best friend. One of them anyway. Everything is just dandy.

"Am I not supposed to be?" I asked, looking at him. Wow, I should totally be an actress.

"I just wondered, after your fall and everything. I know you said you were fine, but I just had to make sure. You hit the water pretty hard."

I smiled at him. "I'm totally okay Oliver. Jackson just hit me with the water when I was distracted, and I didn't have time to react; I'd hit the water before I knew it. Your help was much appreciated though."

"It was no problem. And I can be a lifeguard now, right? You think I could get a job as a lifeguard now, and when they ask for experience, I can put you as a reference?"

"Totally. I'd come along to your interview, and explain in detail exactly how you rescued me. We might have to fabricate it a bit, but our story can be fixed later," I grinned at him, and wrapped my headphones around my iPod, knowing that I probably wasn't going to listen to it again for a few hours. When me and Oliver get started...

Oliver nodded. "I'm sure it can. But we need to make it a trillion times more dramatic. It isn't exciting enough as it is."

I waved my hand, shrugging it off. "That can all be arranged later. We can add sharks and piranha into the mixture at the same time. Will that be exciting enough for you?"

"Maybe."

Oliver looked at me, and our eyes connected. I wanted to keep looking; keep staring into his eyes until he did something, but couldn't. Instead, I raised my eyebrows, and stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned, and rolled his eyes.

"So, what do you think of Italy so far? Not that you've seen all that much of it," Oliver said, looking away and out at the pool, which unoccupied. Miley had gone to sleep for a few hours, and then had to get ready for a Hannah meeting. Jackson was... somewhere. And Mr. S was probably doing the same thing as Miley. So it was just me and Ollie.

"I like it. This part is awesome. The lying on the hammock and the private pool are amazing," I said, sitting up as best as I could in a hammock. "What about you?"

"There are definitely parts of it that I love," Oliver said, and tapped on the armrest of the chair with his fingers. "Is Jackson staying here while Miley is off being Hannah?"

I nodded, rolling my eyes. "Unfortunately, yes. Although he probably wouldn't be any good going with them. I wouldn't put it past him to completely ruin everything, so it's no surprise that we've been assigned to baby-sit him."

"He'd say that it was the other way around though," Oliver corrected.

"He'd say that, but everyone else would know that he was wrong. Who, in their right mind, would trust Jackson to look after anyone? He couldn't even look after a fish without drowning it."

Oliver looked at me and laughed. "A fish can't drown, Lil."

"I know that, but Jackson doesn't. I'm sure he'd be able to manage it. He could be the first person in history to have drowned a fish. Don't ask me how he'd do it, but this is Jackson," I said, raising my eyebrows.

Oliver laughed again, as a figure appeared in the doorway, yawning.

"Hey guys," Miley said, stepping out onto the verandah and adjusting her wig. "You both okay?"

I nodded. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? I'm fine!"

Miley looked at me, a strange expression on her face, before shaking her head and turning to Oliver. "Me and dad are leaving in a few minutes. I'm sorry for ditching you guys and making you put up with Jackson, but I couldn't get out of it. The charity concert workers want to have a meeting with all the stars, and they demanded that I be there."

"It's fine Miley," Oliver said, grinning at her. "Me and Lilly can hang out. We've been doing it our whole lives; we'll be fine for just one night."

"Well, we'll be back soon, okay? I'd say about three hours? It'll be dark, but we'll bring back pizza. Dad says you can help yourself to anything in the fridge until we get back. Will that be okay?"

I nodded. "It'll be more than okay, Miles. Just go already!"

She laughed, and folded her arms. "Anyone would think that you wanted me out of the way." Directing a look at me in particular, she raised her eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes, and swung my feet over the side of the hammock, resting them on the floor so that I'd have no chance of completely falling off of it. "We just want you to go already, so that you'll be back sooner. Because we love you that much."

"Ha. Ha." Miley said sarcastically, unfolding her arms again. "Okay, well I'll be leaving you now. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do, Lilly. See you later Oliver."

I faked offence. "What was that? Why did you direct that statement at me. What are you expecting me to be doing?"

"Just don't do anything that I wouldn't," Miley said, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"That doesn't leave a lot of things for me to do." I replied, laughing when she stopped walking and turned back at me, one eyebrow high above the other. "Joking. Maybe."

She just laughed, and kept walking into the house.

Oliver looked at me and smiled. "Okay, so. Once she's gone... what do you say we do?"

**I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THIS. YOU CAN YELL AT ME IF YOU FEEL IT NECESSARY. **

**Next update should be here tomorrow. But don't count on it or anything. **


	5. Nuoto Di Mezzanotte

**When In Rome**

_**Nuoto di mezzanotte**_

_Midnight Swimming_

"SNAP!" I cried, slamming my hand down on the pack of cards, and beating Oliver by a fraction of a second. His hand thudded down on mine only a millisecond later, and pretty hard. "Oh my gosh Ollie. How hard do you want to hit me?"

Oliver looked at me apologetically. "I'm really sorry Lilly. But I wanted to win one."

"I could tell," I said, my hand stinging slightly. I looked down, and noticed that Oliver's palm was still over mine. My hand didn't hurt anymore; just felt slightly tingly. Whether that was because he'd whacked it really hard, or whether it was for... some other reason, I didn't know, but I still pulled it from underneath like a shot.

He looked at me suspiciously, but changed the suspicious expression quickly to one of concern. "Is it okay? Sorry. You know how competitive I am."

I laughed, trying to shrug off the fact that I'd retracted my hand like his was hot. "I certainly do. Then again, I'm pretty competitive too, so it's not a problem."

"I think we should stop playing this game now. It's potentially dangerous. Someone could get their hand hurt." Oliver took the pile of cards that technically I'd won, and held out his hand for mine.

I gave him them, and sighed. "What do you suggest we do now then? Can you believe that we're still awake? That has to be, what, twenty six hours? I don't think I've gone this long without sleep. Ever."

"Me neither. I love sleep. I need sleep. I crave sleep. Man, I'm so tired." Oliver yawned, and lay down on my bed after putting the playing cards in a pile on the bedside table.

"C'mon Oliver! Mr. S is getting home with pizza in about an hour! Pizza. Real, Italian pizza. Yum..." I said, picking up my pillow and throwing it at him. "I have an idea. Let's go outside. The occasional howls from the mountain lions will keep you awake."

Oliver looked up at me, fear in his eyes, and I was reminded of him at fourteen. It was cute. "There aren't mountain lions here, are there?"

I shrugged. "I don't think so. But there's bats, so that should be fun."

"Bats, I can handle. Lions, I can't." Oliver groaned, sitting up. "Let's go outside then."

Getting up, I led him out of the room, and down the stairs. Jackson was lying on the couch in the living room, snoring, and we passed him as quietly as possible on our way to the door. I opened it and Oliver shut it behind him almost silently, and we made our way down to the pool. Next to it was some sun loungers, although there wasn't much sun at this time. Night loungers then. Moon loungers. I grabbed one, and lay down on it, looking up at the stars. In Malibu, because of all the lights of the city, the stars aren't all that visible. I mean, you can see them, but not like this. They're so bright here. The sky is full of them; almost every inch covered in blinking dots. It's because we're not in a big city. We're practically in the middle of nowhere. Me, Oliver, snoring Jackson and the stars.

"The stars are amazing," Oliver muttered, speaking what I was thinking. "Really bright and clear."

I smiled. "Yeah. They're awesome. I mean, they're pretty damn cool back in California, but here they're even better. You think we could count them all?"

"I honestly don't think so. We could be here all night," Oliver said, his gaze trained on the black sky above us.

Silence passed between us, both of us looking at the stars. It must have been ten minutes later when I looked over at Oliver, and saw that his eyes were closed, and that he was sleeping. I laughed, noticing how cute he looked when he was sleeping, but instantly dismissing it.

The pool looked amazingly inviting now. It was probably freezing, due to the time of night it was, but it didn't look it. And who cares about the temperature? Live a little, right?

I took off the shorts that I was wearing, and the tank top that had been shoved over my swimming costume once it had dried out. Then, without thinking, I jumped into the pool, showering Oliver with a whole lot of water. He yelled, and sat up, looking at me in fake annoyance.

"What did you do that for?" he asked, grumpily.

I shrugged, shivering slightly. "I had to jump in, otherwise I'd chicken out. And you were just lying there... I couldn't resist."

It was really cold. Like, really cold.

"Oh really?" Oliver said, and a monkey could have figured out what he'd do next. He hooked his fingers under the hem of his shirt, and began to pull it over his head. Unlike this morning, I averted my eyes, and instead looked back up at the stars again. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the sudden distraction.

"Really," I said, carrying on the conversation, even though I was no longer looking at him.

"Well then..." Oliver said, and before I could look back at him and try to work out what his evil mind was planning, he'd taken a running jump into the pool, filling my mouth, ears and eyes with chlorinated water. When he resurfaced, he took a breath and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Sorry. I couldn't resist."

I laughed, spitting out the water that had splashed its way into my mouth, and pushed some water into his direction. "Seems like we can't resist a lot of things then, doesn't it?"

"Definitely," Oliver replied, splashing some water at me.

Soon, the alternate water spurts had turned into continuous torrents of the swimming pool being pushed into our faces. Well, when you have me and Oliver, in a swimming pool, you can hardly expect us to be _serious_, can you?

"Okay! I give!" Oliver cried, after about ten minutes of this. Wiping his face, he took a deep breath, and I couldn't resist.

Splashing him once more, I laughed as he turned to look at me, a shocked expression on his face.

"Lillian Truscott. I'm so going to get you for that. That was totally uncalled for. I said I give!" Oliver said, inching closer to me.

I raised my eyebrows, and stuck my tongue out at him. "Aww, but I just couldn't resist."

Oliver jumped the rest of the way, and even my fast reaction couldn't help me escape his grasp. He grabbed hold of my waist, holding me against him. I couldn't help but notice that he was incredibly warm, especially considering he was in a freezing cold swimming pool. Closing my eyes, I braced myself for the second that he'd lift me in the air, and throw me across to the other side of the pool. Any second now. Any second...

It didn't come.

I opened one eye, wondering what the heck he was doing. I could feel him breathing, and his hands were still around my waist, but he didn't seem to be doing anything. Not that I was complaining. It was pretty nice...

NO. NO, NO, NO. Again, I'm breaking the Best Friend Code. And it's like, sacred. I can't break it.

The silence and tension was unbearable. As much as I hated to, I had to say something. "Wow, Oliver. I'm really scared now."

"Yeah?" Oliver said, letting go of me, and turning away. "Well... you should be."

I laughed nervously, backing away into the side of the swimming pool. What was that all about? I dipped down in the water, submerging my shoulders. Now that Oliver had released me, I'd gotten cold again, and I didn't like it. Not as much as I liked sharing Oliver's heat anyway.

UGH. WHY DO I KEEP THINKING THESE THINGS?

"Seriously. Shaking with fear," I said, breaking the horrible silence again. "Or maybe its coldness."

Oliver laughed, turning back to me and walking slowly forward. "Is coldness even a word?"

I raised an eyebrow, glad that he was acting relatively normally again. "Uh, yeah. Look it up."

"I will."

"Good."

"Fine."

Folding my arms, I shrunk down even lower in the water. Man, it was totally cold. Who thought that it was a good idea to get in the pool at this time? Oh, wait. Me. What was I thinking?

"You cold?" Oliver asked, looking at me sympathetically.

I nodded slightly, and he moved toward me, putting an arm around my shoulders.

"It was your idea to get in here, idiot," he said, a joking hint in his voice.

I laughed. "I know. It always is, isn't it?"

Oliver looked down at me, and I looked up at him. The awkward-y tension was back, but more than before.

"Always," he muttered, his eyes connecting with mine.

Everything was so blurry. I think our faces were getting closer, but I'm not entirely sure; it could have been a trick of the moonlight, or my imagination. His gaze never left mine, neither of us daring (or maybe just not wanting) to look away. The hand that was wrapped around my shoulder drew me closer, at least, I think it did. We both knew what was coming next; what could have been.

But then the pool lights went on, and the sound of someone bounding down the steps to the pool made us spring apart. I looked away, at anywhere but at Oliver, my brain suddenly catching up with what had just happened. What had just happened? What was it?

"Guys! What the heck are you doing in the pool at this time? We got home, and couldn't find you. And then Jackson woke up and thought that you'd been kidnapped or something. It was quite funny actually." Miley put her hands on her hips and grinned at us, completely oblivious to the awkwardness that had suddenly appeared between me and Oliver.

I looked up at her, smiling a little. "Yeah, it was so inviting. But it's really cold. Didn't look it."

"Of course it's cold, it's late. I can't believe you're still up. You guys haven't slept at all for over twenty-four hours. I could never do it!" Miley laughed, and pointed toward the house. "We brought back pizza."

Oliver grinned. "I'm getting some. Want me to bring some down?" He directed the question at me, but didn't look me in the eye. Ugh. What a mess.

"No. No, I'm coming up." I stepped away from the side, and watched as he swam away to the steps and put a foot on the bottom step. Then I turned away, embarrassed enough as it was. I didn't need to see Oliver topless again.

When I was sure he'd shoved on a shirt and gone up to the house, I began edging out of the pool, praying that Miley didn't suspect anything. But who was I kidding? It's Miley. She's always suspicious. It's who she is!

"What was going on down here?" she asked, as I picked up one of the many towels that were just lying around by the pool and wrapped it around me. It was warm, which I was grateful for.

"Nothing. We were just... splashing each other. I jumped in and got him soaked, so he fought back. Just... us being us." I said, shivering slightly and picking up the clothes that I'd discarded.

Miley didn't look convinced.

"What type of pizza did you get?" I asked, changing the subject as casually as I possibly could.

She scanned me for a few seconds, her eyebrows raised. After she'd scrutinized me for a few seconds, she sighed. "Pepperoni and Hawaiian."

"Awesome," I said, plastering a fake smile across my face. "You coming?"

"Yeah," Miley said, sounding slightly disappointed. Why she sounded disappointed, I don't know, but she did.

Smiling at her, I turned around and began walking up toward the house, shaking my head, and trying to work out what had just happened. Because, and I may be completely mistaken...

I think Oliver and I were about to kiss...

**Hopefully this one will keep you going until I have a chance to update again. Review, because I love them. :D**


	6. Evitare L'oggetto

**When In Rome**

_**Evitare l'oggetto**_

_Avoiding The Subject_

I didn't get out bed until noon the next day, and while everyone else in the house believed that I'd slept in because I'd missed about a day of sleep, it wasn't. In fact, I hardly slept at all. I couldn't stop thinking about what had almost happened in the pool.

Mom always says not to dwell on what almost happens, because it's usually unimportant, but I don't think that applies in this scenario. How can you not think about the fact that you and your best guy friend almost kissed in a pool at night, in a foreign country? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but it's hardly something that happens on a daily basis, and so you sort of have to think about it. Can you think about anything else? It's there, constantly hanging over your head.

I went down to get some breakfast and found Oliver, sat at the table reading something. It sounds terrible, but I considered turning around and going back to bed. Maybe if I tried to fall asleep, then I could dream myself into a world where I hadn't almost kissed Oliver, and so I knew what to say to him.

He looked up before I could pivot and go back upstairs. "You slept a long time."

"Um... yeah. Yeah, I guess I did. I did miss out on a lot of sleep yesterday, didn't I? When did you get up?"

Part of me wanted him to bring it up, so that we could sort out what it meant. So that we could put right the awkwardness that it had caused, and figure out what to do about the fact that we'd nearly done something that could have wrecked our friendship forever. Then there was the other part of me that didn't want him to mention it at all, for fear of dying of embarrassment. Basically, I was standing there, wanting him to do something, but not wanting it at the same time. Talk about confusing.

"About an hour ago. I got up to find everyone but you down at the pool, which was slightly unnerving. I didn't want to ask how long they'd been up, because I might have been missing something." Oliver smiled at me, and I was amazed at how at ease he seemed. Either he was remarkably good at acting like nothing had happened, or he'd switched bodies with someone else last night and so has no recollection of what happened (or nearly did) last night. Right now, I'm not sure which one is more plausible.

I turned away from him and looked in the fridge, hoping to find something to eat. Surprisingly, I found a lot of edible stuff - Mr. S. had obviously been shopping, either last night or this morning - and so pulled out some weird pastry things, and opened the packet. They would do. "Did I miss anything?"

"Not that I can tell. I'm glad you're up though," Oliver said, closing the book that he'd been reading. I noticed that it was his Italian phrasebook. Figures. He's the only one here that has a hope in hell of being able to speak Italian.

"Yeah, me too. Umm... so, what's going down today?" I asked, sitting opposite him, making sure that I didn't keep eye contact for too long. I mean, I still looked at him, just not for an excessive amount of time.

Oliver shrugged. "Swimming, I guess. There's table tennis, and I know that I will kick your butt at that, so we could start that tournament. If you want we can go across to the village, because Mr. Stewart said that there was an ice cream shop, and I've made a promise to myself to eat as much ice cream as is humanely possible."

I nodded, not really taking in what he said. It wasn't like he'd notice or anything, because he never notices when I'm not listening.

"And I figured that while I'm at it, I'd shave a sheep. Because that's always looked fun. And once I've shaved it, I can ask it to the next school dance and everyone will think I'm so cool because I have a sheep as a date."

He obviously does notice these things. "Okay, sorry. I wasn't listening. I'm still slightly tired, but I'll be fine in a minute. Food wakes you up or something, doesn't it? Whatever. You said something about ice cream. And then sheep. But you were just doing that because you wanted to trick me into admitting that I wasn't listening."

"And it worked. Although you're contradicting yourself. You claim not to be listening, but can tell me the topics of my conversation. How does that one work?" Oliver shrugged, putting on a thinking face.

I laughed. "I always contradict myself, Ollie. You've known me for so long, you have to know that. And maybe I wasn't listening, but can read your mind, so I knew exactly what you'd been saying without having to listen."

"I would hope that you couldn't read my mind. I'm not sure you'd want to be able to hear what I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't even want to be able to hear what I'm thinking. You know when people say 'i can't hear myself think'? Sometimes I wonder why they'd want to." Oliver rambled, and I found myself having to listen intently to get the gist of it.

Raising my eyebrows, I took a bite of the pastry thing, and found that it wasn't that bad. It would make a decent breakfast anyway. "You're talking an awful lot today."

"I know. I'm probably sleep-deprived still. Can you believe that we didn't go to bed until late last night?"

I shook my head, not wanting to get onto the subject of last night. The more we talked about last night, the higher the chance of having to talk about what nearly happened. And I didn't want that. No. I definitely didn't want that. "It's pretty hard to believe."

"And we were in the pool until what, ten? I don't know," Oliver said, and I couldn't work out whether he was speaking without thinking, or whether he was trying to get us to talk about it. "I can hardly remember any of it, to be totally honest. I was that tired."

Oh. A strange feeling washed over me, and I couldn't quite tell whether it was relief or disappointment. I'm not sure I wanted to know either. "Really? I mean... me neither. I guess that's what lack of sleep does to you. Creates... temporary amnesia."

"Lilly!" Miley bounded into the house, her sundress over her swimming costume, and her damp hair in two pigtails. "You're awake. Yay! I'm glad. Are you coming in the pool today?"

I nodded, avoiding Oliver's eye. He'd seemed to tense up a little when I said that I couldn't remember anything. But I didn't want to think about that. "Um... yeah. Sure. Later."

Later. When I had chance to think about this whole thing. And hopefully block it from my mind. Hopefully.

**Rubbish chapter. Better one soon.**


	7. Un Certo Consiglio Amichevole

**When In Rome**

_**Un Certo Consiglio Amichevole**_

_Some Friendly Advice_

Avoiding Oliver is really hard. I'd been trying to stay out of his way all day, for reasons that are beyond my understanding right now, but being in the same house in the middle of a foreign country means that avoiding someone is pretty hard. Especially when the house that you're in is practically in the middle of nowhere. You can't even go for a walk to try and get away, due to the fact that the nearest village is a while away. It would take about half an hour to walk there, and then another half hour to walk back. And the journey back is up a hill. So yeah, my plan to try and stay away from Oliver wasn't as successful as I'd hoped it would be. Plus, I couldn't make it look obvious that I was avoiding contact with him, because then Miley would get suspicious and... oh God, my brain is in such a confused state right now.

I wandered into the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do next. I wanted to go down to the pool, jump in, and forget about everything that may or may not have almost happened last night. That's what I really wanted. But I couldn't just forget about everything, because I didn't _want_ to forget about everything. And yes, you heard that correctly. Lilly Truscott is seriously considering the fact that she may like her best friend Oliver Oken, as more than a best friend.

"Ugh!" I made a disgusted noise at myself for finally admitting it, and pulled open the fridge (with force, might I add) looking for something to eat. Preferably something comforting like chocolate, or ice cream.

Ice cream is kept in the freezer though, isn't it?

"What is wrong with me?" I asked myself, closing the fridge. Why was I thinking like that? Why, after knowing Oliver for... ooh, I don't know... my entire life... am I beginning to get feelings for him that aren't just friendly? Surely, if I was supposed to fall for Oliver, I'd have done it ages ago, and not now when I'm on a vacation and cannot run away from him! Sometimes life is just way to cruel to me.

Opening the fridge again, I looked inside, but didn't really take notice of what was in there. Not my fault. When you are thinking as deeply as I am, then you don't notice anything else around you, because how are you supposed to? Thinking serious thoughts doesn't exactly leave you much brain power to do other things.

Oh my god! I let go of the fridge handle, watching it absent-mindedly glide closed. What if, seeing as Oliver doesn't seem to remember what actually almost happened last night, that means that he doesn't like me that way? I mean, if you like someone like that, then you don't exactly forget about the fact that you almost kissed them in a swimming pool at midnight when there is nobody else around, do you? Or... maybe you do. I don't know. I've never been in this predicament before, so I'm not exactly an expert on what you do the morning after. Or the day after, seeing as most of the day has gone by now.

Wait. Why is that a problem? So what if Oliver doesn't feel that way about me, because I don't necessarily feel that way about him. I'm considering the possibility that I might. There is no certainty in that statement. I pulled open the fridge again, feeling like my brain was going to explode with the amount of contradictions I was making.

"Lilly honey, are you alright?" A voice from the doorway to the kitchen made me jump, and I spun around to see Mr. S standing there, watching me with concern on his face.

Oh crap. Well, what do I do now? He can tell that I'm not alright, obviously. I mean, I've just opened and closed the fridge about a hundred times, while my brain had an argument... with itself. That hardly sounds like I'm fine, does it? But I can't tell him that I might... you know... like Oliver. He wouldn't understand, and he might tell Miley, or even worse Oliver, and then where would I be? I'd be in Italy, confused, embarrassed and totally lost. That's where I'd be. And if I'm being honest, it doesn't exactly sound like a very nice place to be, does it?

"You just look sort of... lost. Are you bored? We could go into the village if you want - me and Miley saw some pretty little shops dotted around. Might cure your problem." Mr Stewart smiled, walking into the kitchen and looking at me.

I shook my head. "No. I'm not bored. I'm just... feeling weird today. It'll all be okay by tomorrow though. Heck, I'm hoping that it'll all be gone by later today, so you'll have to put up with my normal self again soon."

"You sure darlin'?" Mr Stewart always calls me darlin'. Without the 'g' on the end, because that's just how he talks, duh. "You know that you can talk to me about anything on this trip, don't you? Seeing as your mom and dad are all the way back in Malibu."

I sighed. I really wanted to tell him about all of this, and see what his interpretation of it was. Because, whether Miley likes it or not, her father is definitely cooler than either of my parents, and so I think that he'd probably be better to talk to. Whatever he said had to be better than this confusion anyway, right? "Actually Mr. S, I'm not okay. I don't know. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing." Mr. Stewart nodded, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, looking totally ready to listen. See, that's another great thing. My mom would keep cutting vegetables or whatever, instead of actually stopping and listen to what I had to ask her. In my opinion, you can't really offer your best advice while making dinner, because you're obviously distracted. She'll just be all 'yes Lilly', chop, chop, chop 'I understand' chop, chop, chop.

"Okay. Um... hypothetically... if there was this guy, and he'd been your best friend for practically your whole entire life... would it be weird to totally fall for him?" Subtle, Lilly. Real subtle. That wasn't totally obvious whatsoever. Apart from the fact that Mr. Stewart knows that you and Oliver have been friends forever and that he knows that Oliver happens to be a guy, he'd have never have guessed that it was Oliver that you were talking about.

Mr. Stewart pretended to think about, scanning his eyes around the room and nodding slightly. "Lilly, I don't think it would be weird to fall for someone you've been around your whole life. In fact, it's kinda common. Loads of people marry the person that they've been best friends with since birth. And you and Ol - I mean... hypothetically, this guy and girl would be better suited to each other than anyone, because they know each other so well."

Nice save Mr. S.

"Okay, so we can cut the hypothetical rubbish now, because I think it was painfully obvious who I was talking about..." I said, smiling at the fact that he didn't seem to want to totally embarrass me and admit that he saw right through my lame 'hypothetically' stuff. Even though he totally messed it up by beginning to say me and Oliver. Oh well. Thought that counts.

"Yeah... to be honest with you Lilly, I think we've all seen it coming. You and Oliver, you're such good friends, and he's a great kid. Miley's mentioned it a few times to me - it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. What brought it on anyway?"

I shrugged, not really wanting to tell him about the pool incident. That might put a downer on things. He probably wouldn't leave us alone for the rest of the holiday, which would suck. "Nothing... it was just yesterday, on the plane when I was totally freaking, he was really nice and held my hand and everything and I just... I don't know. He probably doesn't feel the same anyway, so there's no point in even going any further. I just wanted to see whether I was being stupid."

"Lilly, trust me on this one. Oliver will feel the same. You've just got to give him time to figure out what you just have."

Wow. Note to self: Mr. Stewart is incredibly helpful. Well, he is if he's telling me the truth. Which I think he is.

I nodded, and opened the fridge once more, this time taking out a can of soda. "Okay. Well, I'll take your word for it Mr. S. And can you promise me something?"

"Sure thing hun."

"Can Miley never hear about this conversation? I'd sort of like to tell her about this whole thing myself... when I'm ready," I said, knowing that it might be a lot to ask to stop him from telling his daughter something. Then again, it was none of her business.

Mr. Stewart smiled, and nodded. "What conversation? I just came into the kitchen, got a drink of water, and went back down to the pool."

I grinned. "So did I."

**Ugh. Another... weird chapter. BUT the next chapter is where they go to Rome, and I love the start that I've made already. So look forward to that.**


	8. Quando A Roma Faccia Come Il Romans

**When In Rome**

_**Quando A Roma Faccia Come Il Romans**_

_When In Rome, Do As The Romans Do_

"Stick with Jackson," Mr. Stewart said as we walked to the entrance of the concert hall. "Stick with Jackson and we'll meet you back here after the run through at say, four o'clock?"

I nodded, and Oliver did the same. Why we're being asked to stay with the childish nineteen-year-old, when we're both way mature seventeen-year-olds, I don't know, but why bring that up?

"Look after them." Mr. S turned to Jackson and warned. "Which means ignore all Italian girls."

I snorted. Like that was going to happen. Miley grinned at me, obviously thinking the same thing.

"Sure thing Dad," Jackson said, standing up a little straighter.

Beside me, Oliver was trying not to laugh. I mean, come on, leave us in the hands of the not-so-capable Jackson Stewart? Whose idea was that?

Miley, who was dressed as Hannah Montana, was attracting a few points and stares, and she grabbed onto her dad's arm, telling him that they had to move.

"Well, have fun guys," Mr. Stewart said, with one last departing smile, before he and Miley walked to the arena, slipping in a side door.

Jackson turned to me and Oliver once they'd left, and looked at us in that was obviously supposed to be a commanding way. "Alright kids..."

I caught Oliver's eye, and we simultaneously looked over each of our shoulders, then back at Jackson, identical expressions of confusion on our face.

"Do you see any kids Lil?" Oliver asked, turning to me.

I shook my head. "None that are listening to Jackson anyway."

"So who is he talking to?" Oliver asked, looking around. It amazed me how he could keep a straight face.

I shrugged, forcing myself not to laugh. "Not entirely sure. Maybe himself?"

Jackson didn't look amused. At all. Which made it even harder not to dissolve into fits of laughter.

"That's the first sign of madness, that is," Oliver said to Jackson and I had to ite down on my tongue. Hard.

"Are you quite done?" Jackson said, eyeing us evilly. Well, as evilly as Jackson can look at anyone.

"Not quite," Oliver said, and I could tell that he was _this _close to laughing. "If talking to yourself is the first sign of madness... then why are we only just seeing these signs in you?"

That was it. I started laughing and Oliver joined me almost instantly. We calmed down after a few minutes of uncontrollable laughing, and managed to compose ourselves enough to listen to the rest of Jackson's well rehearsed speech. I wonder if he'd practiced it in the mirror...

"Now that you're quite finished... We are about to embark on an amazing adventure."

I coughed, and Oliver cleared his throat.

Jackson looked from me to Oliver, and then began to speak again. "This city is cultural, and I offered to take you narrow-minded children on an educational tour, that will expand your mind, and teach you things that you never even imagined you'd know.

He sounded so like a teacher, so I raised my hand like you do when you want to ask a question at school. Oliver grinned at me.

"What is it?" Jackson snapped.

"Okay, well I'm a little confused. These things that we're going to be taught; are you teaching us them? And if so, don't you need more than half a brain cell to be able to teach others?" I said, painting an innocent expression on my face, as Oliver laughed.

Jackson stared at me, and I could tell that he was getting more infuriated by the second. After a few minutes - just when I was expecting the top of his head to fly up in the air and release a dozen jets of steam from within his skull - he turned around and motioned for us to follow him.

Oliver caught my eye and I saw the idea forming in his head. Sure, Mr. Stewart had told us to stick with Jackson, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Plus, I just had this desire to be utterly reckless. Um... and there was also the fact that a whole day in Rome with just Oliver as company... yeah, it was awesomely appealing. With only a seconds thought, I nodded back at Oliver.

"Our first stop is the Pantheon," Jackson rambled, unaware that his two tourists were slowly getting further behind him. I watched him as he kept talking, my heart beating pretty fast. Then he obviously asked a question, and was expecting an answer, because he glanced back.

"Run!" Oliver hissed, and I spun around so that I was no longer facing Miley's brother, and followed Oliver out of the square.

"Hey!" Someone yelled from behind us, but I didn't look back. Just ran up next to Oliver, grabbed his hand (ignoring the tingles that I'd been expecting) and ran through the busy streets of Rome.

---

When we'd ducked down a dozen narrow side streets, and run quite far, we finally stopped.

"We have to be clear of him now," I panted, trying to catch my breath.

Oliver nodded. He seemed incapable of speech and I laughed. "That workout too strenuous for you Olliekins?"

"Don't... call me... Olliekins," Oliver said, leaning against the wall of a restaurant.

I folded my arms. "So Sarah gets to call you it, but I can't?"

"She got to call me it... three years ago..." Oliver said, beginning to breathe at a more normal pace.

I laughed, and then jumped a little as my phone beeped in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw that I had a text from an unknown number. I read it, and rolled my eyes. "Jackson has my cell phone number and he says we're to come back now."

Oliver shrugged. "Do you want to go back?"

"Not especially," I said, shaking my head.

"Right. Well, do you have his number saved on your cell?" Oliver walked across to me.

I shook my head and let him prise the phone from my fingertips. I watched him as he tapped a message into my cell.

"There," Oliver handed my phone back, and I read what he'd written. 'SRY. DNT KNO WHO THIS IS. U MUST HAV WRONG NUMBER.'

"He won't fall for it," I said, but pushed send anyway.

Oliver shrugged. "Who cares? It'll just make him angrier."

"And what're we going to do when Jackson tells Mr. Stewart?" I asked, knowing that because he was Oliver, he'd probably have an answer for that too.

"If he tells him, we just say that he's lying. He saw a hot Italian girl, and left us to talk to her, and while he was away flirting, we got lost." Oliver shrugged, looking pleased with himself. "Two against one. Plus, Mr. S knows what Jackson's like, and it's a perfectly plausible story."

I raised my eyebrows. "Woo, Oliver knows a big word like plausible."

"Hush," Oliver said, but smiled nonetheless.

My phone beeped and I opened the message, smiling at what it said. "Very funny Lilly, where are you guys?" I read aloud before replying.

"What're you saying?" Oliver asked, looking over my shoulder as I typed a message in.

I pressed send and smiled up at my friend. "Told him to meet us at the Colosseum at three-thirty for negotiations."

"I like the way you think," Oliver nodded.

"Good," I said, before stepping out of the side street and into the busy crowds once again. "Okay, so we have no map, no sun-cream, and no clue where we are. Where do we start?"

Oliver just grinned. "Where's your sense of adventure, Lills? I can speak a little Italian, you can map read so when we get a map, you can navigate. We have money. All we need. And we start here. Piazza Navona." He gestured to a sign on the wall beside him.

"What exactly do we do here then, Mr. Know-It-All?" I asked, folding my arms.

He looked around at the traders and tourists and the locals. They were selling goods, eating lunch, eating ice cream...

"Aha!" Oliver cried, motioning to the ice cream cones and then to an ice cream bar a few buildings along. "When in Rome Lilly..."

I rolled my eyes, but allowed him to pull me along to an ice cream bar that amazingly, wasn't too crowded. I guess it was only eleven-thirty, so most people were opting to eat lunch first.

The middle-woman serving us, smiled down from behind the counter. "Ciao!"

"She said hi," Oliver said to me.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a complete moron. I know what ciao means."

"Ciao," Oliver said to the woman, and scanned the ice cream choices. "What do you want?"

I looked. "Vanilla."

"Right," Oliver said, and then turned to the lady. "Posso avere un cioccolato ed una crema del gelato alla vaniglia prego?"

He'd obviously made some sense, because the woman smiled and nodded. "Sì. Da dove provenite?"

"Proveniamo dall'America," Oliver said, still speaking Italian. Both me and Miley had opted to take French, but Oliver chose to do Italian, in an attempt to be different. Though I guess his attempt to be different paid off, because he's the one that can now have conversations in Italy.

"Cono?" she asked, and I nodded, understanding that one. Then she kept talking. "Quanto vecchi siete?"

Oliver paused, and I watched him as he thought about what he was saying next. "Vecchio diciassette anni."

"Voi due insieme?" the woman asked, nodding toward me as she scooped vanilla ice cream into a cone.

It might have been my imagination, but Oliver seemed to blush slightly at that question. Not that I knew what she was saying so that I could be sure.

"No." Oliver shook his head. "Amico. Amico."

"Corsa," the lady nodded, putting the vanilla ice cream in a stand and beginning the next cone. When she finished that one, she gave an amount of money. "Cinque Euro."

I tried to give Oliver some money, but he shook his head, giving the woman the amount. She smiled as though she knew something I didn't. Which, considering she was older and probably wiser, was most probably right. She knew way more than me.

"Italiano gelato: il gelato migliore nel mondo," the lady said as she handed over the ice creams with a smile.

"Grazie," I said, as I took the cone. She'd just said something about Italian ice cream, I knew that much.

I left the shop, Oliver behind me. "What did that woman say in there?"

"That Italian ice cream was the best in the world," Oliver said, avoiding eye contact with me. I think he knew what I was asking about - the question that had made him blush - but he evidently didn't want to talk about that.

I looked at him as I licked a drop of ice cream as it ran down the cone. "Wow. You really know your Italian." Well I wasn't going to bring it up if he wasn't going to. Even though I really wanted to know what she'd said. Note to self: bring Italian dictionary with you when going on vacation to Italy, just in case some ice cream seller says something that makes you best guy friend blush.

"Not really. That was a basic conversation. She could tell that I wasn't fluent." Oliver said, still seeming somewhat distracted. Ugh! I want to know what Mrs. Ice-Cream-Lady said to him! And I want to know now!

But, because I am a good actress, I pretended that I wasn't bothered about it, and focussed on licking my ice cream. "Cool. So, where next?"

Oliver shrugged, looking up at me now that I'd changed the subject. "Didn't we need to get a map?"

"Yes we did," I said, looking around for somewhere that looked like it would sell maps of Rome. "Although I guess we'll still need a destination, otherwise there's no point in getting a map."

"Very true. Sooo, let's go to the... Trevi fountain," Oliver said. "We can throw a coin in. Make a wish. Just please, don't run off with any Italian popstars. I can't be dealing with that hassle."

I laughed, rolling my eyes at him. "Jeez Ollie, how many times did your cousin make you watch the Lizzie McGuire movie?"

His face fell quickly. He used to babysit for his cousin if he ever needed any extra cash... and she had a slight obsession with Hilary Duff. "I lost count. If I ever hear that song again, I might have to kill myself."

"Aww, please don't Ollie," I said, spotting a place where maps could be sold.

"Enough with the Ollie. In Italy, I am Oliviero," Oliver said, holding his ice cream like a beacon.

I grabbed onto his arm. "Yeah, but I'm not calling you that."

"Lilly," Oliver began, as I pulled him over to the shop. "When in Rome..."

I rolled my eyes again. "Do as the Romans do. Yeah, yeah. Doesn't mean I'm going to call you Olive Oil or whatever."

"Olive Oil?" Oliver raised his eyebrows as I picked up a map, and searched the pockets of my board shorts for the necessary coins.

"Or whatever," I added, handing over a few Euros. "You can change your name to Crap Bag is you want, but you'll always be Ollie to me." I walked out of the doorway and began unfolding the map, one-handed - which is harder than it sounds.

Oliver grinned at me. "If I change my name to Crap Bag, will you change yours to Princess Consuela?"

Man, we watch _Friends_ way too much.

"Only if I could still call you Ollie," I laughed, trying to find Piazza Navona on the map. Boy, Rome was one big place.

"Deal." Oliver laughed too, before looking at the map and then back up at me. "And the map is upside down."

Hastily turning it the right way around, I stuck my tongue out at him. "I knew that."

"Sure." Oliver wasn't convinced; I could tell from the look on his face. "La fontana di Trevi. This way." He jabbed at a point on the map, before grabbing my arm (not the one with the ice cream in) and pulling me in a random direction. Well, to me it was random. Apparently he knew where we were going. Apparently.

But I trust Oliver. And if we don't end up at the Trevi fountain, what do we lose? Nothing that I'd particularly miss.

So, laughing, I let him pull me along, my ice cream dripping onto my hand, and getting weird looks from people passing by us. But did I care? Nu-uh.

---

The Trevi fountain was pretty busy. Packed with people getting their photos taken, and tossing coins in. We dodged through the crowds of people, the ice creams long gone, grasping each others hands so that we didn't lose each other in the crowds of people. Well... that and the fact that I didn't want to let go.

"It's packed!" Oliver yelled as we got closer to the fountain itself.

"I can tell!" I yelled back, rolling my eyes slightly. "Believe it or not, I'm actually in the same place as you."

Oliver found a patch of ground that wasn't mobbed, and looked at me, feigning shock. "No! Oh my gosh Lilly, what are you doing here?"

"Trying to pretend I'm not with you," I replied, laughing slightly.

"Trying but not succeeding. Everyone here knows that you love me really," Oliver joked, grinning.

If only he knew how true that was, I forced my eyebrows to raise, and made my expression unconvinced. At least, I hope it looked unconvinced.

"I'll take that as a 'yes Oliver, I love you. I love you so, so much. And I want to have your babies', Oliver put on a weird high-pitched voice, that had better not meant to be me. Seriously, I do not sound like that.

I had to laugh at him though. "I think I'll pass on that offer. Thanks anyway though."

"Your loss," Oliver shrugged. "Your kids won't be amazingly handsome now though."

"Maybe not, but at least they won't be doughnuts," I smirked, and then looked at the fountain beside us. "Lets throw some money in! Apparently, if you throw a coin in the Trevi fountain over your shoulder, it guarantees your return to Rome."

Oliver looked at me, his face filling with sarcastic excitement. "You know what else guarantees your return to Rome?" When I looked at him, he lost the fake excitement and said in a very unamused tone: "Buying a plane ticket."

I laughed. "That might just do it too. Aww, Oliver come on. I want to throw a coin in, and so you have to too. If you don't believe in the 'return to Rome' superstition, then just make a wish."

"I guess I can do that," Oliver shrugged.

"I know you can make a wish. I was there for every pre-teen birthday party, wasn't I?" I said, fishing a couple of coins from my pocket and pressing one into his hand.

"You were the only one invited to all of them," Oliver admitted, his fingers clasping around the coin that I'd given him.

I grinned. "Because even then, I was the best. And there is to be no denying that."

"I wasn't going to," Oliver smiled.

"Good," I said, and then turned my back to the fountain, holding my coin out in front of me. "On three?"

Oliver nodded. "No wishing for Italian popstars though."

"I'm not Lizzie McGuire, okay? Plus, I can't sing, and there is no way that any Italian person would look almost identical to me. So it isn't going to happen. Let it go," I said, wondering why he actually allowed his cousin to put on the Lizzie McGuire movie so many times. Then again... this was Oliver. "Okay. One..."

"Two."

"Three," we both said, and threw our coins over our shoulders.

I wish... I wish for the rest of this trip to be absolutely perfect. For nothing to go wrong, and for me to go back to Malibu having had the best holiday ever.

And I don't know what Oliver wished for, but when I turned to face him... he was looking right at me.

**And there we have it. Day in Rome Part 1. Rome Part 2 might take a while. I just need ideas. But it will be up as soon as possible. Oh, and the Italian language may not be 100 correct. I do French at school, not Italian, and so had to use an online translator.**


End file.
